"Mary is a new life mate," Mortimer pointed out as if Justin hadn't spoken. "It might be better to call Lissianna's husband, Greg. He is a psychologist, is he not?"
"Good thinking," Lucian decided, pulling out his phone. "I shall call him now. In the meantime, Justin, drive Dante to the nearest store that would carry condoms."
"Sure," he said, rolling his eyes. Leading the way to the door, he added, "I'll check the sense of humor aisle while I'm there and see if I can get you both one."
"Check the brain aisle as well," Lucian suggested. "I suspect you left yours there the last time you were shopping."
Justin paused abruptly with his hand on the door and turned to stare at Lucian with amazement. "Did you just make a joke?"
"No," Lucian said firmly.
"Yes, you did," Justin countered, grinning. "It wasn't a very good one, but you made a joke, Lucian. Holy shit, I never thought I'd see the day." Pulling the door open, he walked out into the hall, shaking his head, and crooned, "Lucian Argeneau, cracking jokes. Well, I never!"
Dante stared after the man and then glanced back to Lucian, his eyebrows rising.
"Go ahead," Lucian said on a sigh. "He is an idiot, but a good lad despite that."
"I'll take your word for it," Dante muttered and hurried out of the room after the other man.
Mary was out of bed and staring out the bedroom window when Dante returned from his quest for condoms.
"I have them," he said triumphantly, holding up the bag holding the items as he entered.
Mary glanced to the bag, but then asked, "Where are we?"
Dante had tossed the bag on the bed and was pulling off his T-shirt, but paused with it off his head but still on his arms at that question. "What?"
"Where are we?" she repeated more slowly. "Last I knew we were in Texas, but judging by the amount of snow out there, this isn't Texas. Where are we?"
"Oh." He finished taking off his shirt and tossed it over one of the chairs. He then crossed the room to join her at the window. Slipping his arms around her from behind, Dante pulled her back against his chest and peered out at the snowy back yard. It was night, but between the house's outdoor lights, the lights on the buildings behind the house, and his night vision, he was able to get a good look at the landscape. It was starting to warm a little as spring approached. There were patches of grass showing in spots, but it had been a hard winter and there was still a lot of snow out there.
Bending to press a kiss to the top of Mary's head, he explained, "We are at the Enforcer House in Toronto."
"Toronto?" she asked with amazement. "As in Ontario, Canada?" When he grunted a yes, she asked, "But how did we--?"
"We flew out an hour after the accident," Dante said quietly. "We would have left sooner, but we had to pick up Bailey first."
"How on earth did you get me through customs and immigration without a passport or my even being conscious?" Mary asked, sounding stunned. "And what did they say about my injuries? I mean they must have noticed my head all bent out of shape."
"We have our own planes and do not go through customs and immigration," he said with amusement.
Mary turned slightly and tilted her head to ask, "How do you manage that?"
Dante just raised an eyebrow and waited.
"Oh," she murmured, after a moment. "Mind control and stuff."
Nodding, he smiled and then kissed the tip of her nose. "It comes in quite handy in certain situations."
"I guess," Mary agreed dryly and turned to peer out the window again before murmuring, "Toronto."
Something about the way she said the city's name caught his attention and Dante glanced down at the top of her head, wishing he could see her expression. He couldn't, however, so asked, "What are you thinking?"
"My daughter lives here," she said softly. "Her husband's company transferred him here four years ago and they moved. I've missed having her and the kids in Winnipeg. I don't get to see them as much."
"Oh," Dante said, suspecting what was coming.
"I can see her while we're here," Mary said and he could hear the smile in her voice at the thought, and then she added, "I haven't see her since Christmas. Both of my kids and their families flew down to Texas for Christmas this year. I rented a house by the RV camp and we all stayed there for two weeks, enjoying the beach and visiting. It was lovely and I was thinking of detouring this way to visit them on the way home, but I--"
"Mary," he interrupted softly.
She paused and went still, and then her tone was wary when she said, "What?"
Dante suspected he'd given away something with his tone, perhaps pity or regret. He was feeling both right now. But it had to be said. "Mary, you cannot see your daughter."
Now she went stiff. "What do you mean? Of course I can."
Her tone was brusque and short. She was not going to take this easily, he thought unhappily, and withdrew his arms from around her to grasp her shoulders and turn her to face him. Meeting her gaze, he asked solemnly, "How will you explain the changes you have gone through? Your new youthful appearance? The new silver tint to your eye color?"
Mary glared at him resentfully, obviously not appreciating the question, but said, "Well, I'll just explain about immortals and--"
"You cannot tell her about us," he interrupted firmly. "Keeping our existence from the rest of world is a necessity. It is how we have survived so long as a people. If mortals knew we existed, fear alone would make them hunt us down and--"
"You told me," Mary interrupted almost accusingly.
"Yes, but you are my life mate," Dante pointed out solemnly. "I hoped to turn you. If the situation had arisen where you refused to be my life mate, I would have had to let Lucian wipe your mind of all memory of me and everything I told you."
"He can do that?" she asked with alarm.
"We can do that," Dante said gently. "Including you. You are one of us now, Mary."
She frowned slightly, and then shook her head. "Well, that's all right, and I can still tell her. I want to turn her. I want to turn her husband and children too, and my son and his--"
"You cannot," Dante interrupted and hated himself for having to do so. He was quite sure if their places were reversed, he would wish to do the same with his family. However, it just wasn't possible. "Mary, each of us is allowed only one turn. It is necessary," he added firmly. "If every turn, turned every loved one, we would soon outstrip mortals in number."
"So?" she snapped impatiently.
"So whom would we feed on?" Dante asked practically and saw the revulsion that immediately crossed her face. "I am sorry, but that is reality. Your reality now."
Mary swallowed and shook her head, but then said, "Fine. But I can turn one?"
"Each immortal can turn one individual in their life," he agreed quietly, already knowing where this was going. "They usually save it for their life mate."
"You're my life mate, though," she pointed out. "So I want to turn my daughter."
"It is your choice," he said mildly. "However, you have to gain her permission first, and she then would have to leave her husband and children behind."
"She can turn her husband," Mary said at once, and then added, "And he can use his one turn for his oldest daughter, who can use her turn on her sister, who can turn my son, her uncle, who can turn his wife, who can turn their son." She smiled triumphantly. "And then we can all be immortal."
"What if your daughter's husband is not her life mate?" he pointed out.
"They're married," she said with a laugh.
"That does not mean they are life mates," Dante said solemnly. "And if he is not, life together would be unbearable."
"They love each other and live together now," Mary pointed out. "They would be fine."
"They may be fine living together as mortals, but that would not be the case if they were immortals and not life mates," he assured her. "It is difficult to live with someone when you can hear their every thought."
"But if they were both immo
rtal--"
"Then they would both hear every thought the other had about them," Dante said solemnly.
"You mean you guys can always read each other?" Mary asked with surprise. "It isn't just a new life mate thing?"
Dante hesitated. He'd really been looking forward to getting back here with the condoms and actually using them. However, that wasn't looking very likely if he had to explain--Sighing, he pushed those thoughts away. This was important to Mary. He needed to explain, "Immortals can read each other if they do not guard their thoughts. If they are guarding their thoughts, it is impossible to read immortals who are older than themselves, and harder, but not impossible to read the thoughts of immortals about their age or younger than themselves. We quickly learn to guard our thoughts, but it takes constant effort and can be exhausting, and immortals often end up avoiding spending time with each other because of this. Life then can become very lonely if they stay by themselves, or heartbreaking if they befriend mortals who age, sicken and die so quickly in comparison to us. It has led to immortals going rogue and doing things they should not," he added solemnly. "And that is why we have hunters, or Enforcers."
"That is also why life mates are so important to us," he continued without giving her a chance to interrupt. "A life mate is the one person, mortal or immortal, that we cannot read and who cannot read us. We can relax together and enjoy each other without the need to constantly guard our thoughts."
"If you turn your daughter and she turns her husband and they are not life mates, they would not long stay together. Worse yet, each of them would then be consigned to a life alone with no hope of ever turning a life mate should they meet one." Dante paused briefly to let that sink in and then added, "And just by the very fact of forcing your grandchildren to turn each other, each of them would lose their opportunity to ever turn a life mate. They would all be left to live a very long, very lonely life with no hope of respite except through death or going rogue."
Mary's shoulders dropped miserably. "Isn't there any way--?"
"No," he cut her off solemnly. "Each immortal can turn only one. And if you tell your family without the intention of turning them . . ." He paused, his mouth firming. "Well, it would be a wasted effort. Lucian would send a group of Enforcers to ensure their minds were wiped of the memory. And then he would have you locked up in the cells in that building you probably noticed at the back of the property until you could be judged by the council."
"Judged?" she asked weakly. "What would they do?"
Dante shrugged. "I do not know for certain. I suspect they would search your thoughts to see if you were likely to be a future threat to keeping our presence in the world a secret. If not, they might just keep you locked up for a while."
"But if they thought I was?" she asked with a frown.
"They might simply perform a three on one and wipe your family and past from your memory, or . . ."
"Or?" Mary prompted, when he paused.
"Or, they might terminate you," Dante admitted on a sigh, and then added, "I, of course, would try to stop them, would no doubt be killed in the effort, and we would both be dead."
Mary gaped at him at this prediction, and then they both glanced to the door as someone knocked on it.
Sighing, Dante released Mary and turned to cross the room and answer it. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed warily when he saw Lucian in the hall. If the man read his mind and got wind of the discussion he'd interrupted--
"In his report, Russell mentioned that Mary lost her RV and all her possessions in the RV explosion," Lucian said abruptly.
"Si. She lost everything except the clothes she was wearing and they were badly damaged too," Dante admitted. "We were going to take her out to buy clothes, but then the kidnappers took her and . . ." He shrugged.
Lucian nodded. "Bastien will arrange for new ID and bank accounts for her. He'll put in a sum to cover everything she lost, but he needs to know what name to put on the ID and accounts, and what birth date Mary wants. She cannot use her original birth date or the name Winslow anymore," he pointed out.
"Right," Dante said with a frown. "I will have to talk to her about that."
Lucian nodded. "Do that. In the meantime, she will need clothes. We shall have to take her shopping. Would you prefer to do it first thing in the morning before retiring? Or in the afternoon after waking?"
"We?" Dante asked, his voice almost strangled with surprise. Lucian was not the sort to enjoy shopping for women's clothes, he was sure.
But Lucian nodded. "You and Mary, Russell, Francis and myself."
"Oh," he said weakly.
Lucian waited patiently, but when Dante just continued to stare at him, his mind in an uproar, he said, "Late afternoon it is then," and turned to walk away, leaving Dante staring after him.
Mary stared at Dante's back. She couldn't see who was at the door--Dante's wide back was blocking her view--but she didn't really care. She didn't even care enough to listen to what was being said and she no doubt could have heard with her super duper new hearing, but she couldn't be bothered. Her mind was spinning with all she'd lost.
She'd thought losing her husband last year had been a big blow, but losing her children and grandchildren, her entire remaining family and all her friends in one go? And if her being turned was the cause of her loss, then it had happened in basically the same area of Texas where she'd lost her husband last year, she realized, taking note of the irony.
But Dante had turned her to save her life, Mary reminded herself quietly. If he hadn't she would be dead, which would have lost her everything anyway, and in a more permanent way. But now she had her life, if a slightly different one that included the need for blood. And she had Dante. And she could still see her children and grandchildren from afar, and check their Facebook and twitter accounts to see how they were. She just could not actually speak to them or hold them in her arms again, comfort them when they suffered life's setbacks or losses, or encourage them when--
Turning sharply to the window, Mary dashed a sudden spate of tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She was being a stupid, ungrateful old fool. She had been given a gift here that most would kill for. She had a young and healthy body again with no aches or pains, no failing sight, no pills for blood pressure or cholesterol.
She also had a strong, handsome man who she had mind-blowing sex with, literally, and who saw her as the holy grail of women. A man who wanted her for his life mate and had admitted just moments ago that he'd die for her.
And, she could have babies with him too with this new improved body, Mary reminded herself. But even that did not ease the pain of losing the children and grandchildren she already had, and she knew it never would. While she'd loved every dog she'd had in her life, none had replaced the one she'd had and lost before it.
But they had helped ease the pain a bit, Mary thought suddenly. Perhaps the distraction of a baby would help see her through not being able to see her children and grandchildren except through their Facebook posts.
The psychologist in Mary knew at once that that was a bad idea, that it wouldn't work to ease her loss, and in fact would simply add to her stress as new babies tended to do. But Mary was a woman first and didn't want to listen to the more reasonable and educated side of her brain. She suddenly just wanted a baby to hold in her arms, one that was born immortal and could not be taken away from her.
"Mary?" Dante said softly and she whirled to see that the door was closed and he was crossing the room to join her again.
Mary didn't even think, she just slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and let the gown drop to pool around her feet. "Let's make a baby."
Dante stopped walking and blinked. "What?"
Stepping out of the puddle of cloth, Mary moved to him and slipped her arms up around his shoulders to try to tug his head down for a kiss. When he resisted, a frown marring his perfect face, she grabbed his hand and dragged him the few steps to one of the chairs by the window and quickly step
ped up on the seat so that she could reach his mouth.
"Mary," he said on a laugh, trying to avoid her lips when she tried to kiss him. "What--?"
"I want a baby," she said almost desperately. "Please, Dante."
"But, Mary, you said--" He paused and gasped when she gave up on trying to kiss him, and instead reached down to find and squeeze him through the thick cloth of his jeans. Shaking his head, he groaned helplessly, "But I got the condoms."
"We don't need them," she assured him, unsnapping his jeans with her free hand and then lowering the zipper. "I want a baby."
"But Mary, you--I--" His efforts to speak died abruptly as she got his jeans open, freeing his quickly growing erection. When she caught it in her hand and squeezed gently, he gave up arguing on a growl and covered her mouth with his own.
Breathing her relief into his mouth, Mary kissed him back and continued to caress him, her own body responding to the touch and telling her just how much pressure to apply, what speed felt best. It was a wonderful trick, allowing her to bring them both quickly to the brink. But when Mary realized she was about to push them both over the edge into orgasm with him not even in her, she quickly released him and broke their kiss.
Ignoring Dante's groan of disappointment, Mary urged him back a step, and got off the chair to stand on the floor in front of him. She then immediately turned and bent forward, bracing herself on the arms of the chair now with her behind nudging against his erection.
"Hurry Dante," she urged. "Give me a baby."
Dante clasped her hips and she waited, bracing herself for his thrust, but it never came. He just held her. Mary glanced over her shoulder, scowling when she saw the frown on his face. He was thinking when he should be doing.
"Dante," she said impatiently. "We can't make a baby that way."
His gaze shifted to her and then something like determination crossed his face, and he shifted his hands to grab her by the waist.
Relieved, Mary started to turn forward again, and then gasped in surprise when instead of entering her, he simply picked her up and set her to stand on the chair again, still with her back to him. She frowned and glanced around then. Dante was a lot taller than her and she supposed it would have been awkward for him with them both standing on the floor. Still, surely this put her up too high?